


Boys of Summer

by Stivvy



Series: Scitlets [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Best Friends in Love, Boys Being Boys, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, I just miss being a camper guys, M/M, Mischief, Sciles, Skittles, Sneaking Out, Summer Camp, breaking rules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stivvy/pseuds/Stivvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summers at camp can be a time of freedom, growth, childish mischief and joy. Most of all though, we discover who we are, who our friends are, and what they truly mean to us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> GOD people I really miss camp. This ficlet is based on an experience of mine almost to the letter, but I might take my time to get it just right. Enjoy :)

_I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun_

_You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on baby_

 

You know that sound a cricket makes in the silence?  That ear splitting trill like the crack of that branch under your tiptoeing foot, or the thundering announcement of your heartbeat ripping through your chest. It's like breaking glass when you're half asleep and half out of your bed reaching for the aluminum bodyguard that's always close at hand now. Like the crash of the drums when your favorite 90s band tells you it's your last chance to get up and you're probably gonna be late. Again. It's not a great feeling.

But once, when we were young, it was nothing short of exhilarating. Once, when we snuck out late at night, over the porch roof and down the tangled ivy wet with dew in a black hoodie and so brand new you-could-be-walking-on-a-cloud nikes. Or when we ever so slowly unzipped the sleeping bag and swung out carefully towards the creaky overused and underswept wooden floors, freezing like a criminal at every sniffle and snore as bunkmates toss and turn in homesick soaked rusty cots. Each step a risk, each crack of wood a gunshot sending lightning bolts to the tips of our fingers and toes. Is it better to go fast and not be seen? To creep slow and not be heard?Each decision ticking in your ears like a time bomb and seeping through your pores like electricity, surging you forward.

Let me tell you about a time like that one. A moment that tears through time on the merits of its sounds, on the power of its simplicity, and on the memories of two very different boys who eventually grew into one.

It was always chilly at night, but this close to dawn was especially crisp, and the mountain air seeped through the cracks in the dilapidated bunks like an unwelcome air conditioner. Stiles shivered under his flimsy sleeping bag, wrapped as tight as an overstuffed burrito and wishing he was as warm as cilantro rice. _Mmm burritos_. He let his eyelids flutter open slowly as he acknowledged and cursed his adolescent hunger pangs, and rolled over into a fetal position to better rub the heat back into his body.

Moonlight was still streaking through the graffitied windows, and Stiles watched as it framed the sleeping face of the boy across from him, whose tongue was actually lolling out and dribbling onto the pillow below. He hoped he didn't look that gross when he was asleep. Curling his toes Stiles rubbed his hands all over his goosebumped legs, frowning at the slight warmth the flannel pyjamas provided as the friction grew against his skin. But now he was awake, and this wouldn't do at all.  

As was to be expected the train of thought from burrito to breakfast to picturing the rest of the day took no time at all, and the now slightly less shivering boy rubbed his fists against his eyelids to stop the runaway thoughts in their tracks. It wasn’t morning.

With a heavy sigh Stiles rolled onto his back and started to stretch, twisting and rolling his ankles and wrists until his extremities cracked with resentment at being disturbed. There was only one way to salvage the last few hours of rest he was supposed to get, and he knew it wasn’t going to be in this creaky, tiny excuse for a bed. Widening his eyes as much as he possibly could Stiles slowly leaned up on his elbows, bent his knees, and, wiggling his toes inside the sleeping bag, started to undo the zipper as quietly as he could.

The counselors (only a couple years older than their charges) had only just returned from their night duty a couple of hours before, so he was sure they were sleeping as soundly as logs at the bottom of the lake. Nevertheless he twisted his body as carefully as possible, swinging his legs over the side of the cot and trying not to let the springs give him away. The wooden beams under his feet sent a cold shock through his body, and he flinched back from the ground, cursing himself for not wearing socks to bed. On the second try he let out a breath of relief when he found he was able to stand and take the few steps forward to his cubby, pulling out a hoodie and knee socks he thought he would never use during the summer (thank god for Melissa, his dad would’ve never known how to pack a kid for camp) and throwing them on his body like he was about to freeze off a limb.

Taking a quick glance around the room for anybody watching, Stiles slipped into his sneakers and started creeping towards the door at the other end of the bunk. “Hey…” came a whisper at his back, “where ya goin?”

Closing his eyes the boy turned towards the voice with an irritated look. “None of your beeswax Murphy,” he replied with an angry stage whisper, “go back to sleep, you’re just dreaming.”

“Whatever bro, just don’t get eaten by bears cuz I won’t be telling them you snuck out, you’ll just have to make it back in one piece on your own.” Murphy mumbled groggily, stuffing his face back into his pillow.

“Count on it.” Stiles muttered, turning once more towards the door, deciding to make a run for it before anyone else could hear his pounding heart. _Bears? Pfft. More like the caretaker Big Willie trussing me up like some hunting prize and dragging me back to string me up on the flagpole_. The thought wasn’t pleasant, so Stiles decided to take the long way around (more trees) and maybe even tiptoe on the way to avoid further detection. When the screen door whined on its way open, his breath hitched in his throat and Stiles froze on the spot. This was NOT going to be over before it began, so he steeled himself to try again.

This time the ancient hinges were forgiving and the boy flew out the door, jumping over the staircase for extra measure and hopping back to his feet after his half asleep body felt the shock of landing and crumpled to the dirty ground. Wiping off his ruined pj bottoms, Stiles took a rapid look around and made a break for the woods beside the crooked bunk porch, carefully but quickly scanning the rest of the trees around him before choosing a relatively dry trunk to lean against and adjust his shoelaces.

Aside from the usual cricket chorus and sounds of tiny animals scattering around him, Stiles was satisfied with the silence that hung over the camp grounds. If there was anything he was good at, he reassured himself, it was not getting caught. It was this very thought that was making him smile when all of a sudden he noticed a tingly sensation creeping up his arms. It wasn’t goosebumps from the cold, it wasn’t a spider making its way towards the heat from his armpits (he checked wildly), it was coming from the inside. A primal feeling. Someone was watching him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!! Nothing makes me happier :)


End file.
